


As the World Falls Down

by Sanalith



Series: Underground [2]
Category: Labyrinth (1986), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 04:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanalith/pseuds/Sanalith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being told of Belle's death, Rumpelstiltskin travels to the Castle Beyond the Goblin City in search of something very important: A way to get drunk. He finds a bit more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As the World Falls Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PotionsMistressM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotionsMistressM/gifts).



> Crossover between Once Upon a Time and the movie Labyrinth and sequel to [Only Forever, Not Long at All](http://archiveofourown.org/works/443007)

In general, Rumpelstiltskin was quite fond of the benefits being the Dark One provided. Access to centuries of knowledge, nearly unlimited power, perfect health, agelessness…all Very Good Things, as far as he was concerned. But every now and then, the curse insisted on keeping him too too well off, and he found himself rather annoyed.

Like now, when all he wanted to do was drown his sorrows and get completely sodding drunk, and he couldn’t.

Just as wounds closed almost instantaneously and his body was frozen from the ravages of time, the alcohol was simply absorbed too quickly for him to feel more than a momentary tingle of inebriation. Over the years he’d tried every single spirit he could find – he even attempted to make his own on occasion – but nothing changed. He still drank, his bottomless flask providing him with a bit of mental comfort if nothing else, but there were days he sorely missed being able to bury himself at the bottom of a bottle.

Learning that your True Love threw herself off a tower rather than be tortured by so-called Men of the Gods could definitely drive a man to drink. Especially when the only reason she’d been forced to endure said clerics was because said man was a foolish coward who tossed her out because he was too afraid to believe she might actually care.

Her death was on his hands. There was no other way around it. And for just one bloody hour, he wanted to forget.

Well. Desperate times called for desperate measures. And if there was one thing he still understood after all these years, it was how to recognize a desperate soul.

Rumpelstiltskin made his way down to the lowest levels of the Dark Castle, where he kept a single uncovered mirror. It was not of this world, not made of any glass or metal found in the Enchanted Forest, which meant there was no way his enemies could possibly use it against him. He kept it hidden just for extra precaution, but he’d know in an instant if the Queen ever tried to use it, and thus far, it remained his little secret.

On the other side of the mirror was as fantastic a realm as he’d ever encountered. He rarely crossed over unless it was absolutely necessary, mainly because he hated owing the creature on the other side any favors, but at this point Rumpelstiltskin was willing to pay the price. Quite by accident, nearly a century ago, he’d discovered a certain beverage that actually allowed him to get drunk, or something near enough that he didn’t notice the difference. A Fire Ale, made from strands of fur from wild creatures whose insanity must run so deep that it remained even when liquefied. Whatever it contained was unique enough from all the elements in the Enchanted Forest that it fooled even the great powers of the Dark One.

Yes, liquid insanity sounded pretty well perfect right about now.

Stepping through the mirror, Rumpelstiltskin felt a brief wave of vertigo, and then, vision clearly, he found himself at the gates to the Castle Beyond the Goblin City.

It wasn’t quite as bad as Wonderland, but he still hated the world of the Labyrinth. And its King.

*************

It took Rumpelstiltskin nearly half an hour to locate the elusive Goblin King, which did nothing for his temper. The castle wasn’t even that large, but since rooms and hallways loved to move every which way when he wasn’t expressly watching them, he had to concentrate quite hard to ensure he didn’t waste his time doubling through areas he’d already searched. Finally, his annoyance reaching stratospheric heights, he finally found his quarry in a high tower room.

Perched on a window ledge, long legs sprawled out in front of him, Jareth stared unblinkingly out over his kingdom. The twisting turns of the Labyrinth were displayed in all their glory, but it was obvious he took little of his usual pleasure in it. A sparkling crystal dangled from one gloved hand, but its face was clear, revealing no hidden secrets.

In short, the Goblin King looked nearly as empty as Rumpelstiltskin felt, and for the first time in years, a ready quip died on his lips.

No. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. The irony would be far, far too great.

And yet…and yet…

“What was her name?”

Jareth looked up at the voice, his mismatched eyes suddenly sharpening as he beheld his visitor.

“You.” The world was coated with venom. “You dare to show your face here, after what you’ve done to me?”

A moment of shock rippled through him at the accusation, but he quickly regained his equilibrium and placed a hand at his heart, a wounded expression on his face. “I? Now now, dearie, you’ll need to be a bit more specific than that. I’ve done a lot of things to a lot of people, after all.”

Jareth gracefully unfolded himself from the window ledge, his boot heels clicking angrily on the stone floor as he stalked forward. “Your cursed me!” he snarled. “You brought her here! You caused all of this! It should not have been possible!”

So. He’d been right. It was almost too much to comprehend, the cunning Dark One and the mighty Goblin King, brought down so low…together.

“You’ll have no one to blame but yourself for that particular curse, as you well know. Magic can do many things, but forcing…that…is not one of them.” His eyes narrowed. “You should know that as well as anyone, Your Majesty.”

Jareth barred his teeth in a snarl, but he could make no retort to such a universal truth. 

Magic could indeed do much, but creating love was something completely out of its reach.

“What was her name?” Rumpelstiltskin repeated.

Jareth gave him a long, hard look, and his fingers clenched around his crystal as though preparing for battle. But after nearly a full minute, he slumped back against the wall, his eyes closing.

“Sarah. Her name was Sarah.”

Princess. How fitting.

“I came for Fire Ale.” He paused, meaningfully. “Do you remember the…caretaker…from when you last visited?”

Jareth cracked open an eye. “Your Beauty?”

“Yes.” A clipped syllable, almost non-existent.

The Goblin King considered his long-time associate. 

It should have been impossible. Love did not visit cursed sorcerers and trickster kings. Somewhere, somehow, someone was playing a great cosmic joke and having an eternal laugh at their expense.

“I’ve been saving a bottle for a special occasion. Come.”

Rumpelstiltskin sighed in relief.

Finally.

*****************

Even the Fire Ale wasn’t enough to get two such powerful entities truly and completely drunk, but a little intoxication was better than nothing. Rumpelstiltskin felt muscles relax he hadn’t even known he had. Belle’s loss had taken more of a toll on him than he’d ever be willing to admit, and this was the first time since he’d sent her away that he’d felt even remotely calm again.

As he’d assumed, Jareth was very nearly as bad off. With half the bottle gone, the Goblin King began to haltingly tell the tale of his lost love. Strangely enough – or perhaps not, given their similar temperaments – this Sarah Williams sounded not unlike his Belle. Strong-willed, a vast imagination, a naiveté that lacked only age and experience to be broken. Heroines, both of them, who’d never before had the chance to show what they were made of.

What was it about these simple, powerless, mortal girls who could bring Goblin Kings and Dark Ones to their knees?

“Precious little surprises me after so long,” Jareth said softly, gazing into the amber liquid in his glass, as though hearing Rumpelstiltskin’s thoughts. “And yet…she did. Moment after moment. No matter what I did, she countered, even without meaning to. So much passion and fire in such a tiny little girl.”

Rumpelstiltskin could only nod. Such traits were like ambrosia to men such as they.

“Will you go after her?” he asked finally, after several minutes of silence.

Jareth shrugged, knocking back the rest of his glass. “She’s fifteen years old. That’s a bit like stealing another child, don’t you think?”

“She won’t be fifteen forever. What’s three or four years to an immortal king?”

He nodded slowly, then flicked his gaze up. “And you?”

Rumpelstiltskin pushed aside the glass in favor of taking a long swig directly from the bottle. He shuddered slightly, grateful for the burning sensation that coated his throat and chest.

“Dead is dead. You know that. No magic can bring her back.” He let out a harsh laugh, so far from the twittering giggle of the Dark One. “You’ll need to be happy enough for both of us, it would seem.”

Jareth barked out a laugh of his own. “Creatures like us don’t get happy endings, as you well know.” He paused, reaching out and swiping the bottle. “And you’re sure she’s dead? You’ve seen the body?”

Rumpelstiltskin’s mouth tightened. That was, of course, the closure he’d been denied. Despite all his efforts, he’d been unable to locate Belle’s resting place. No doubt she was in an unmarked grave somewhere on her father’s lands, but try as he might, he’d never found it. But neither had he found a trace of her life force, so what else could he believe?

“Things are not always what they seem,” Jareth reminded him delicately, rolling the bottle between his fingers with a grace that belayed his inebriation, “so you can’t take anything for granted.”

“Keep your useless clichés to yourself,” Rumpelstiltskin snarled, though the slight slurring of his words removed the worst of the sting.

Jareth shrugged elegantly. “Suit yourself, but you of all people know not to trust what you have not seen with your own eyes.”

That, unfortunately, was true enough.

With the bottle gone and his mind – and heart – at least temporarily deadened to pain, Rumpelstiltskin pushed back the chair loudly across the stone floor and tossed a small vile across the table. Jareth caught it nimbly, his eyes widening a tiny fraction.

“What’s this for?”

“Payment for the ale. Use it as you will.” His lips twisted in a mockery of a smile. “Or keep it for another few years, until a certain princess comes of age.

The Goblin King clutched the tiny vial tightly between his fingers, filled with the potion that allowed him to traverse the mortal realm in his true form rather than as an owl. 

Neither noted that such a precious elixir was worth far more than half a bottle of liquor, no matter how potent.

If asked, Rumpelstiltskin would simply say he was too drunk to notice. It was better that way. Better than admitting he cared. Better than hoping, deep down inside, that at least one of them really did get a happy ending.

At least Jareth had a chance. His Sarah was alive.

And Belle was….

~You can’t take anything for granted.~

He would not get his hopes up. He would not. Losing Belle, especially after all he’d gone through with Bae, had damn near killed him. If he allowed himself to believe, even for a moment, that there was a chance…he wouldn’t survive when he was proven wrong.

And yet…and yet…

No. He’d once sworn to love nothing else until his plans were complete and Bae was by his side once more. He should never have cared for her in the first place.

Jareth was wrong. She was dead and gone and he’d never see her again. Bae was at least a possibility. Bae was all that mattered.

Pushing back his chair, Rumpelstiltskin gave his host an elaborate bow, then vanished into the night.

He had a curse to complete and a world to bring crashing down. It was time he got back to business.


End file.
